


A Vow in Crimson

by Anonymous



Category: Buzzfeed The Try Guys (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Coma, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Slash, Rune Magic, Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 13:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Eugene couldn’t meet his friend’s eyes. The smell of Ned’s anger billowed around him, and rightly so, because it was true: this was all Eugene’s fault. He’d taken Zach up on his foolish, ill-informed offer, he had sunk his teeth into Zach’s neck and hadn’t stopped when Zach begged it of him. Hehadn’t stopped.Note:This fic is a sequel to "A Promise in Red."





	A Vow in Crimson

Zach wasn’t breathing. There was a tube stuck in his nose and another one in his mouth, both of them mercifully opaque. A machine beeped next to the bed, and the steady, monotone rhythm of the sound made the hair on Eugene’s arms stand on end. In his stomach stirred an unsettling feeling of roiling aggression.

Of course that could also be from the screaming stink of disinfectant which permeated the whole room; the hallways; even the people. It was so sharp it singed the insides of his nose. With every inhale, the burn flared down his windpipe and into his lungs. Despite his sense of smell being numbed by the chemicals, he could pick up the overly sweet, cloying scent of _fading_. They were like rotting flowers in a vase of old water: a parasite causing fatal brain damage, a bleeding that wouldn’t stop, a life lost that modern medicine couldn’t save. The odor permeated the room and clung to the walls. Layered underneath, the occasional whiff of fresh blood – a needle’s prick, a reopened suture – barely warranted noticing.

None of it was Zach’s blood, anyway.

Eugene let out a frustrated huff and paced from Zach’s bed to the window. Stormy clouds had amassed over LA during the night, making the sunlight beyond nothing more than an ominous flicker.

It had been a week since the Try Guys and their team had returned from Alaska; a week and a day since Eugene frantically woke Keith and Ned from their post-field-trip slumber to rush them to the hospital. Five days since Zach’s respiratory systems had given up in the wake of the first blood transfusion and he hadn’t so much as twitched. His eyes were sunken and his skin was deathly pale. His heart was still beating – _thump, thump-thump_ , right in Eugene’s ear, even on the opposite side of the room – but the nurse’s chart just stated blood-loss and two tiny puncture wounds that couldn’t possibly be responsible for said blood-loss. The doctors had no idea what was going on. His condition was getting worse and there was nothing they could do to help him.

Eugene rested his head against the glass. Even with his lower body temperature, it felt cold.

He realized a moment too late that the approaching footsteps in the hallway sounded more than a little familiar. The door swung open carefully and a man in a red sweater stepped in, carrying a bouquet in his free hand.

Eugene didn’t jump, but he turned around.

Ned’s eyes locked onto him and his previously neutral, slightly worried expression morphed into barely suppressed rage. “O-ho, look who’s here.” He dumped the flowers onto a nearby table, squared his shoulders, curled his hands into fists and came right up to Eugene to snarl in his face. “Are you finally ready to tell us what the hell you did to Zach?”

Eugene looked away. He couldn’t meet his friend’s eye. The smell of Ned’s anger billowed around him, and rightly so, because it was true: this was all Eugene’s fault. He’d taken Zach up on his foolish, ill-informed offer, he had sunk his teeth into Zach’s neck and hadn’t stopped when Zach begged it of him. He _hadn’t stopped_. A wave of nausea hit Eugene.

He took a step to the side, trying to get around Ned, but his friend’s hand curled into his jacket and held him by the collar. “You don’t get to leave, asshole. I don’t know how you managed to weasel your way out during questioning, but –”

Eugene wrenched himself out of Ned’s grasp, which wasn’t difficult because he was so much stronger than a regular human, and headed for the door.

Ned followed him, boots heavy on the linoleum floor.

Eugene felt the movement without having to look, and evaded Ned’s grab for his arm. The motion sent his stomach spinning, and black and yellow spots danced in front of his eyes. He needed to leave, right now. “Bye, Ned.”

“I swear to God, Eugene,” Ned growled, running after him until Eugene slipped out into the hallway, “If Zach dies I’m going to kill you.”

The door fell shut in his face.

Eugene slowed to a stop and just breathed. The nurse at the front desk of the critical care unit shot him a pitying look. She was human. The doctors were also human, blissfully unaware of what was actually going on around them. They couldn’t save Zach, Eugene realized, with a painful curl of acrid bitterness. They could only watch him die.

He looked back at the light blue door of Zach’s hospital room and all of a sudden, his stubbornness reared its head. No. This wasn’t happening. He wouldn’t allow it. “If they can’t cure you, I will” he whispered, inaudible to everyone without enhanced hearing, “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way. What use is being _this_ , if I can’t protect the people I care about?”

He wished Zach could hear him. He wanted it so much his cold heart ached.

 

* * *

 

Despite having been a vampire for half a decade, Eugene didn’t know much about the hidden world his _change_ had given him access to. He didn’t associate with changelings, or Underworlders, or Creatures, or whatever they called themselves these days. There was more than one reason for his solitary lifestyle: one, he’d always worked better alone. The teamwork, the Try Guys, were a recent development, and one he’d yet to absorb into his ‘private’ life. Not that he really wanted to.

Next, a pack of vampires was far more likely to attract attention, simply from their collective body count. Their natural need for dominance further complicated any form of coexistence, making true loyalty, like it existed among the werefolk, impossible.

Lastly, most of them were antisocial pricks far too enamored with ripped black coats, eye-shadow and melodramatic poetry for their own good, and Eugene was so over that. Humans were much more fun to be around. They made him feel, paradoxically, _un_ changed, and while he loved his superior capabilities, he more enjoyed not being reduced to them, as he was among his own people.

That said, he knew of one other vampire who might be able to help: Curly.

Which was how Eugene found himself in front of his colleague’s door the next time midnight rolled around, wondering if he should ring. Or shout? Walking in straight away was probably a bad idea, even if it was damn hard to sneak up on a vampire.

“This way,” said a voice from above.

Eugene looked up and there was Curly, on the terrace above the carport. He looked… rosy-cheeked. When he smiled, his fangs glinted in the moonlight.

There was no way for Eugene to get up to the terrace, though. He stated as much, and Curly rolled his eyes. He snapped his fingers.

A swirling, red glow enveloped Eugene and he found himself lifted into the air, weightless, and gently deposited on the terrace.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” Curly said, walking over to a mini-fridge beside an open double-door that led into a spacious bedroom. Sheer, turquoise curtains billowed out in the gentle evening breeze. Curly picked out two cans of beer and offered one to Eugene, then paused. “I’m sorry about what happened to Zach, though.”

Eugene looked right past him. “So you heard.”

Curly waited another moment, before, with a shrug, putting the proffered beer back into the fridge. “The rumor mill hasn’t stood still since before you flew out.”

“Can you help him?”, Eugene blurted out, the words spilling from his mouth ere he had a chance to stop them. He hated himself for how much his voice was shaking. But he would beg, if he needed to.

Curly shook his head. “No.”

“What? Why not?” Eugene grabbed Curly’s shoulders. “You’re the only vampire I know who has magic. You have to help him. Please. Please?”

Curly shook him off with the same ease Eugene had extricated himself from Ned earlier, albeit more gently. “I can’t. I’m a rune magician; levitating people is the extent of what I can do in the physical world, and even so, magic is not a save-all.”

“Please, Curly.”

“It’s a tool, not a cheat code. You know the rules, Eugene, everyone does.” His expression turned sad. “A life for a life.”

Eugene flinched, stumbling backwards. The words felt like he’d been hit in the face. “What?”

“You don’t know? It’s been in so many Disney movies. Take for example Aladdin,” Curly waved a hand.

“No,” Eugene cried. “Those are stories. They are not real, it doesn’t work like that!”

“Not quite, no, but there are still limitations.” Curly lifted his shoulders in a helpless gesture. “You can’t wish for love, you can’t create life, and everything else has a price you might not be willing to pay.”

“You are my only hope,” Eugene said, sounding utterly broken. “Without you, Zach is going to die. He’s dying and it’s my fault.”

Curly gave him another pained look.

His silence, more than his words, were what made the ice spread though Eugene’s veins. For a moment, he felt absolutely paralyzed. Then he whirled on his heel, swung himself over the balustrade and hit the ground running.

“Eugene!”, Curly called. “Eugene, wait!”

But he couldn’t wait. He needed to get away from here, away from that awful feeling – he needed to forget. At least for a little while. There was only one thing in the world that promised an easy slide into oblivion: alcohol.

A tiny part of Eugene felt guilty about, well, _something_ , but its voice was easily squished by the first round of shots. The alcohol burned in much the same way the disinfectant had. As soon as he realized this, he switched to cocktails and turned towards the dance floor. He hadn’t been out partying since they came back and he also hadn’t had any blood, either. Right now was as good a night as any to catch up on both.

The at turns great and terrible thing was: no one withstood the charm of a vampire. Great because it was never too hard to pick up someone, no matter the purpose; terrible because he could never be absolutely sure the people he talked to liked him because he was himself or because of the glamour.

Tonight, though, Eugene knew he wasn’t at his best. He’d drunk too much, and instead of it making him bold and charming, it just made him nauseous. He usually only had to deal with the inconvenient consequences of his alcohol intake when he’d gone way over the limit, and never while he was still drinking. Vexed, Eugene put way less care into seducing his prey than he normally did.

The results of this were two spilled drinks – in his face – a slap to the cheek – narrowly avoided – and a hungry growl in his stomach. Eventually he turned to hunting for food, but the girl he was talking to got stolen away from him by an overly concerned designated driver who seemed to be depressingly sober. Things just went downhill from there, because no one else at this goddamn club smelled remotely appetizing. Not with Zach’s taste still seared into the back of his tongue; the memory of gorging himself on his best friend was too poignant to be forgot so easily.

“Hey, Earth to Hot Guy?”

Eugene blinked and looked up. A guy was squinting at him, empty shot glass clutched between his shaking fingers. He was slurring heavily.

“Help a fella out here and show me the door? I think I’ve had enough.”

He didn’t smell worse than the others. If anything, the alcohol would help. Eugene placed a hand on his shoulder. “This way.”

The guy leaned onto him. “Thanks, man. Rully… really appreciate it.”

As soon as they were outside on the dark street, Eugene grabbed the guy’s arm and pulled him around the corner, into the shadows behind the club. The space was small, wet and empty, and smelled of garbage cans and too many smoke breaks.

“Hey, Hot Guy, what are you doing?”, the guy slurred.

Eugene pressed him up against the wall, slid a hand into his hair and forced his head back. He could see the pulse jump under his skin and his grip tightened. He leaned in, searching for the best spot to bite.

The guy’s eyes widened. “Hey, hey, there! I’m not like that, man!”

Eugene opened his mouth, fangs lengthening.

“Hey! Let me go!”, the man yelled, starting to struggle, but he was even less of a match for Eugene than Ned had been. Not when he was too drunk to do anything except fling his arms out helplessly and whine. “Hey! Help! Stop! Please, stop!”

Eugene froze. Suddenly, he wasn’t in the seedy dark behind a club any more. He was in a bathtub in Alaska, with his best friend’s voice in his ear. _Please, Eugene, you have to stop._

Bile rose in Eugene’s throat, coming up faster and faster. He hurled, violently nauseous, and vomited all over his prey.

The guy cried out and pushed him off, and this time Eugene stumbled backwards, barely keeping himself on his feet.

The guy’s speech was still slurred when he squared his shoulders, trying to seem bigger. “Hey, you fucker, did you just puke all over me? Do you know how much that thing cost?”

Eugene didn’t give a crap. His vision was switching between _here_ and _back then_ and the hospital; Zach’s small, lifeless form. It was his fault. Ned was right. He’d murdered his best friend.

Eugene barely noticed the other guy staggering off, cursing under his breath. He just fell against the wall, head spinning. He wrapped his arms around himself and let the tears come.

When the first silver lining appeared on the horizon in the distance, Eugene was frozen to the bone. It was worse than in Alaska, but he’d finally made a decision.

He stumbled out onto the street and took the first cab to the hospital.

 

* * *

 

Eugene knew what he had to do. It was only ever going to end one way. From the moment he’d taken Zach’s life into his hand and failed him.

The hospital was dark in the time before the actual morning, dead silent and even more richly doused in disinfectant. He snuck in past front clerk and passed the elevator on his way to the staircase, which was not monitored – or at least he hoped it wasn’t. No one came to stop him, so he guessed he was right.

The critical care unit’s head nurse would be more of a problem, and one Eugene wasn’t willing to face. He waited around the corner, keeping an eye on the glass doors, until she went to the staff room to get herself some coffee. Sadly, he had completely forgotten that she needed to buzz him in and, in his attempt to open the door, accidentally shattered the bolt.

“Fuck,” Eugene muttered to himself and ran to Zach’s room. He made it just a second before the surprised head nurse came rushing back to her station. He listened to her footsteps, heart pounding hard in his chest, and only then noticed that he wasn’t alone.

Standing in the darkness at the foot of Zach’s bed, was Curly. “So you decided to come after all. I’ve been waiting here all night.”

Eugene took a last deep breath and crossed the room. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Curly cocked his head. “Are you sure? Because there’s no coming back from this, Eugene. No awakening, no second _change_. A life for a life.”

“I am absolutely sure,” said Eugene, and his voice held no inflection even though his heart was racing in his throat.

With a nod, Curly bent down to get something from behind Zach’s bed that Eugene couldn’t see. He came back with a jute bag, self-painted for Halloween with a cute jack-o-lantern face that Eugene vaguely remembered from… _somewhere_ – he was probably drunk –, and pulled out a paintbrush and a dagger.

There was no light to glint off the blade, but it looked menacing nonetheless.

Eugene braced himself. “Do it.”

Curly clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “I already told you I can’t. You’re the one who needs to do this.”

“But I don’t know magic,” Eugene cried. He barely remembered to muffle his voice.

“That’s fine, the rune will do it for you,” said Curly. He handed Eugene the tools and as their fingers brushed, a black canvas lit up in Eugene’s mind. In the darkness, a rune flickered – lines of flame in elegant cursive, a handwriting that wasn’t quite Curly’s.

 _Life_ , his instinct told him. _Vitality, health, heartbeat-beat-beat._

“Use your blood,” Curly instructed.

Eugene hesitated. The thought of cutting his own skin was viscerally terrifying – even more so since he’d become a vampire. _It’s for Zach_ , he reminded himself sternly, adjusted his grip on the knife and gently pricked the base of his thumb. Blood welled up, its smell sweet but unappetizing since it was his own. He switched the knife for the brush and dipped the bristles into the puddle that was forming in his palm.

Immediately, he felt the pull of magic – hushed at first, silent like drums in the far distance, barely enough to make his skin tingle. It quickly rushed up to surround him, rising like the tide, dancing along his nerve endings. Magic felt like tapping an electric fence and, instead of letting go, riding the shock. Eugene felt lit up on the inside, and he drew an amazed breath. He’d never dabbled with magic, figuring it old-fashioned and fairly useless in a technological world ruled by humans, but if this was what it was like, he could understand why so many creatures attempted it.

“Wow,” he said to Curly, and then realized that he was completely alone. “Oh.”

Eugene turned back to the bed and tugged the cover off Zach. A nurse had, at some point, put him in a hospital gown. The paper crinkled under Eugene’s fingers as he dug his nails in and ripped it off to expose Zach’s chest. It was just as hairy as he remembered, but also shaved in places, to attach the heart monitor.

This close, the beeping of the machine and the thumping of Zach’s heart overlapped in Eugene’s ears. Swallowing, he set the brush right where he could feel the contractions of the powerful muscle shake against Zach’s rib cage with every beat.

The prickling on Eugene’s skin intensified. He closed his eyes. The rune was still there, etched into his memory. _Here goes nothing._

He drew the brush down. Pain flared through his body and Eugene had to bite his free hand from crying out at it, lest he alert the head nurse.

Fuck, Curly hadn’t told him how much it would _hurt_. Only completing the first of the fifteen rune lines already made Eugene want to keel over. He ground his teeth and kept going, even as his body fought his every move.

His drawing blood ran out far too quickly, and as he went back for more, he found his hands were shaking. Red drops spilled all over the stark white blanket. It smelled better by the minute. Deliriously, Eugene leaned down to lap it up, to break the rune and take his life back. He barely managed to stop at the last moment.

 _For Zach_ , he told himself. The hospital room spun around him. Thirteen strokes, then fourteen. Just one more curl above the heart and the transfer would be completed.

He couldn’t.

He’d come this far, but hunched over Zach’s lifeless body with his own on the line, he couldn’t do it. But if he didn’t, Zach would die.

Eugene whimpered. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Closing his eyes, he finished the circle. The moment he was done, the rune lit up in an unearthly glow, like fresh embers, and Eugene’s very existence shattered into pain. Searing white fire ate up his vision. He felt his legs give out and his body crumbled, but he didn’t feel the impact. He didn’t feel his skull hitting the floor. There was nothing but all-encompassing agony.

The pain propelled him out of his body and suddenly, he was floating, as if he were above himself. Outside of his body. Huh, maybe vampires did have a soul, after all.

Then the world vanished, and he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the prequel: [A Promise in Red](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15715425)
> 
> This work may be edited in the future.


End file.
